


Kiss with a Fist

by HappeningInMyHead



Series: A Kiss with a Fist is Better than None [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 14:26:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1188564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappeningInMyHead/pseuds/HappeningInMyHead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arya tugged her eyes away from the floor and held her head high. She was not ashamed of her body. She refused to let them think otherwise. She was not embarrassed of being a woman.</p><p>Modern AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Watching You Watching Me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/575007) by [crossingwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/pseuds/crossingwinter). 



This was a fucking bad idea and Gendry knew it. However, that wasn’t going to stop him from following through. It never did.

He pulled a shirt on over his tousled hair and slipped his feet into over worn combat boots. A hand clapped him on the shoulder and he turned to see the familiar shit-eating grin on Jon’s face. It was good to know he wasn’t the only one who enjoyed this a little too much. Gendry glanced at the clock—12:05. The perfect time to sneak out

He grabbed his leather jacket from the floor and followed his best friend to the window. The Stark household was large and this particular window was probably 40 feet from the ground, however, this was a climb that Gendry had made a thousand times before. He scaled down the front of the house sure footed.

He’d lived with the Starks for 5 years—ever since his mother died. He’d never known his father and still had no idea who the man was. But the Starks were his family, and had been all his life. They were all he needed.

Jon waited for him on the ground and once Gendry jumped the last five feet, they started to make their way across the lawn. Right on cue, Robb pulled around in the driveway in his black jeep and the two boys climbed in. They rode along in silent anticipation until finally they reached their long-awaited destination: Ros’s Bar. Robb burst through the door first, followed by the younger men. The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea and Gendry hoped that one day he may have a presence like that as well.

Just as they reached the door to the basement, Ros called out to them.

“Hey, Robb, what exactly do you boys do down there,” she asked. A flirtatious grin crept on to her face as she looked him over.

Robb smiled back at her, charming as ever, and replied, “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a stupid club.”

And the trio disappeared into the darkness of the basement.

* * *

 

They hammered down the stairs two at a time and as they entered, the crowd fell to a hush. Robb stopped for a moment on the steps to look over the crowd with a face like a general. He began walking again, flanked on either side by Jon and Gendry until they reached the center of the room and the crowd formed a ring around them.

“Welcome to Fight Club,” Robb yelled. The men of the crowd cheered back at him. Some clapped and others lifted their fists in a sense of glory.

“Rule Number One: You do not talk about Fight Club,”Gendry hollered.

“Rule Number Two: You DO NOT talk about Fight Club.” Jon delivered in much the same manner as Robb had the first night of this moronic summer tradition when it first began three years ago.

They had been 18, stupid, and full of testosterone. For some silly reason that has since been long forgotten, the three got into a fight and that was the source of all this mayhem. It had started with Jon. He had a black eye and a busted lip as a result of their scuffle and noticed that when he was out, girls looked at him a bit differently. He was used to getting overlooked (what with a half-brother like Robb Stark, it was expected) but now, it was like women were seeing him for the first time and only now did they realize that he was attractive.

Jon had never been particularly interested in girls before simply because he didn’t see reason to worry himself with women, however, he began to change his tune when he saw the red head from his Westeros History class in junior year staring at him in the market. He didn’t know her name, but he knew that he wanted her.

It passed like a disease to Robb when he noticed that for the first time he wasn’t seen as the perfect little Stark boy. He’d always been looked at as a sort of giant child, like he was some toy for people to project their wishes on. However, the scar on his cheek and the bandage across the bridge of his nose changed the way he was looked at. It morphed to something akin to respect, but kinder than fear. It was reverence.

It ended with Gendry. The fight they’d partaken in hadn’t changed people’s view of him, but rather his view of himself. He was more confident and outspoken. He liked the change.

After some deliberation, they set the rules for the club.

“Rule Number Three,” bellowed Gendry, “If someone yells ‘stop’, taps out, or goes limp, the fight is over.”

The club would only take place during the summer with occasional meetings over holiday breaks. This was so that all members could focus on their studies, Robb’s idea of course.

“Rule Number Four,” Jon clamored, “Only two guys to a fight.”

As for where the club would meet, Gendry pulled a few strings with Ros who owned a bar on the brink of the city. She’d worked with his mother before her death and knew him to be a well-behaved kid, so she let him have the basement. He chuckled to himself, if only Ros could see him now. The well-behaved little boy having fights in a dirty basement.

“Rule Number Five: One fight at a time.” When Gendry concluded this rule there were slight groans from the crowd. They were eager. That was good.

The club would meet every night for an hour and a half from 12:30-2:00. Members were not required to attend every meeting.

“Rule Number Six: Fights are bare knuckle. No weapons. No shoes or shirt either, boys.” The crowd whistled and cheered.

“Rule Number Seven: Fights go on as long as they have to.” This was met with silence. They’d all seen bad fights that went on for too long and ended with too much blood and the reeking smell of bleach days after the cleanup.

“Rule Number Eight: If this is your first night of Fight Club,” Jon paused and listened to the crowd, how they practically vibrated with anticipation, “you have to fight.”

The crowd descended into cheers and the guys began taking off their shoes and shirts; all of them hoping to go first.

“Well then,” a voice called over the pandemonium. From the back of the crowd stepped a girl no taller than 5’ with hair cut to frame her face and end at her chin.

Arya Stark.

“I guess I’m up.”


	2. Chapter 2

Arya turned over in bed and looked at the clock—11:50. She had to be quick or she’d miss her window of opportunity. She pulled her jacket on over her head and slipped into her trainers. She shimmied her window open and descended silently down the side of the house; once on the ground she tip-toed to the garage. There, she hid in the bushes as Robb pulled the door open from the outside. This was when she had to be quick. As Robb walked around to the driver’s side door, Arya snuck to the trunk door. She opened it silently and perfectly timed her shutting it with Robb closing his own door. She snagged the blanket her brother kept in the back seat at all times and covered herself with it as she crouched in the trunk. The car jerked into motion as he backed out of their garage and Arya let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The car jerked to a stop at the front of the house and she heard Gendry and Jon climb into the jeep. Her heart beat faster as she was suddenly overcome with Gendry’s scent. It was like steel and fire and rain. He was simultaneously a roaring fire and the water that quenched it. She shook her head. This was not the time to be thinking about Gendry Waters.

She’d liked him for two years now and that infuriated her. At first she didn’t really know what it was. She’d never really had a crush on anyone before. Suddenly the youngest Stark girl was experiencing butterflies in her stomach whenever Gendry was around and she found herself thinking about him at the most inopportune times: during classes, at Skeleton practice, even when she was trying to sleep. Finally, she’d given up trying to fight the feelings off and admitted it.

She liked Gendry Waters.

The car began moving again and she stayed crouched rather uncomfortably in the back seat. Finally, the car jerked to a stop and she cracked the trunk door so that when Robb locked the car, she wouldn’t be trapped inside it. She peeked out and watched as they strode into the bar with Robb leading the way until their heads disappeared behind a door. Arya threw the blanket off of her head and slipped from the back of the car and shut the trunk behind her.

Arya pulled her hood up over her head as she entered the bar and hoped that her small stature would come in handy once again so that she could go unnoticed. She walked briskly through the crowded bar, slipping in between patrons until she finally reached the door that lead to the basement. She took a deep breath and pulled it open.

* * *

 

“Welcome to Fight Club!”

She looked on from the stairs as the crowd cheered. She slipped down the steps and hid at the back of the group in a dark corner, waiting for the perfect moment to appear.

“Rule Number One.”

If she wanted to leave she had to decide quickly. Everyone wouldn’t be this distracted later on in the evening. If she wanted to leave she had to do it now.

“Rule Number Three.”

There were so many men here. Men she’d never even seen before. And some men she was shocked to see in a place like this. One of whom was Viserys Targaryen. A scumbag if ever Arya saw one.

“Rule Number Six.”

She brought herself back to the present. Now was not the time for internal rants over the way some ‘men’ in this room treated women. How they would undoubtedly treat her.

“Rule Number Seven.”

She looked at the steps that lead to her escape and shook her head. She’d planned this for near on a year. She couldn’t give up now.

“Rule Number Eight: If this is your first night of Fight Club,” Jon paused and Arya stood at the back of the crowd, practically vibrating with anticipation, “you have to fight.”

The crowd broke into cheers and she cleared her throat and took a deep breath.

“Well then,” she called as she began to wheedle her way through the dense, hot crowd. She stepped into the circle of light that lied at the center of the cluster and looked at Robb, Jon, and Gendry each in turn.

“I guess I’m up.”


	3. Chapter 3

Gendry stiffened. She was staring right at him for what felt like years, but when she looked away only a second had passed and he found himself wanting her back again. He shook these thoughts from his mind. Arya was like a sister to him.

The men in the room had varied reactions. Some were outraged, some were stunned, and some simply didn’t care. Robb was the first to speak.

“Arya, what the hell are you doing here. Just go home, please.”

“No,” she asserted. “I am here because I want to fight, and I’m _not_ going to leave.”

“You can’t let her fight. She’s a _girl_.”

Arya turned her head curtly in the direction of the voice. Of course, it was none other than Joffrey Baratheon. That pompous arse. Arya wanted nothing more than to bloody his face, and to think that now she might have the chance.

“I agree, she’ll ruin the whole dynamic. She’s not even pleasing to look at. What’s the point of an ugly woman?”

Robb, Jon, Arya, and Gendry all looked at Viserys Targaryen with ice in their eyes, but Gendry was the first to speak.

“Shut your mouth, Viserys, or I’ll—,”

“You’ll what,” taunted Viserys, “fight me?” A few guys in the crowd snickered.

“No, Targaryen,” Gendry said as he approached Viserys, “I’ll kill you.”

“Oh look, the bastard’s in love,” called Joffrey. In a flash, Gendry turned around, grabbed Joffrey by the collar, and punched him full on in the face. Arya heard the crack of bone and closed her eyes.

But she did not flinch.

She knew the pain behind a broken bone. She was an athlete and injuries came with the territory. That didn’t make witnessing or experiencing them any more pleasant.

Jon touched his younger sister’s shoulder.

“Arya, it’s dangerous here. Most of these guys are twice your size. Go home, you’ll be safer there,” he pleaded.

“I’ll also be bored,” Arya retorted.

A voice in the back yelled something about rule number seven and Robb and Jon closed their eyes.

“What’s rule number seven,” Arya asked, she hadn’t been listening earlier when they called out the rules. She was too preoccupied with thoughts of potential escape. Her brothers exchanged a look and didn’t speak, so she looked, instead, to Gendry. He looked away from her as he spoke.

“No weapons. No shoes. And,” Gendry looked up from his hands and instead let his eyes roam quickly over Arya’s body—he hoped she didn’t notice, “no shirt.”

Hoots and hollers arose in the crowd and Arya’s face burned crimson. She looked down at her feet and slipped her feet out of her shoes. The crowd fell silent—stunned that she would actually go to such lengths to fight.

She pulled her sweatshirt up over her head and let it fall to the floor. She grabbed at the edges of her t-shirt and yanked it off over her messy hair and let it fall to the floor and with it total silence.

Arya stood there in nothing but her shorts and a sports bra. The swell of her chest, usually obscured by her shirts, now visible to every guy she’d ever known and some she’d never met. Arya tugged her eyes away from the floor and held her head high. She was not ashamed of her body. She refused to let them think otherwise. She was not embarrassed of being a woman.

“Now,” she said, “who’s brave enough to fight me?”

The silence continued.

“I will.” Arya turned to see Mycah, the butcher’s boy. She remembered playing with him when they were younger. He was short and fat then, but now he had grown into a strong young man. He stood at least a foot taller than her and he was nearly twice as wide: a wall of muscle.

“Perfect.”

* * *

 

Arya stood at one edge of the circle in the center of the crowd. She looked across the way to where Mycah stood. God, he was tall. Arya shook her head. She couldn’t get discouraged now.

She looked up at Gendry who was standing before her wrapping her knuckles in boxer’s tape.

“I can do this, you know,” she whispered. He dropped her right hand and tenderly lifted her left and began wrapping it.

“I know you can,” Gendry snapped. He stopped binding her knuckles and lifted one of his hands to pinch the bridge of his nose. He squeezed her left hand in his and smiled meekly down at her. “I just,” he started, “I don’t want you to get hurt.” He blushed and looked down at her hand to finish wrapping her knuckles and tried to convince himself that the only reason he was concerned with her safety was because she was like a sister to him. Gods, how many times had he told himself that?

“Hey,” she lifted his chin so that he was looking at her, but his head was still angled down. He, like most people, was taller than her. She reached out and tenderly laid her palm on his chest. His breath hitched and he sighed. “Just because I’m a girl and I’m little—that doesn’t mean that I’m not strong. That doesn’t mean that I can’t fight and win just like every guy in here. Besides, I’m fast. He can’t hit me if he can’t see me. Don’t worry about me, Waters.” She smiled at him in the hopes of tugging one from his lips as well.

“I can’t help it, Stark,” finally, he grinned, “you’re a dangerous little wolf.”

“And you’re a bull-headed boy.”

Jon and Robb came up behind her then and gave her words of encouragement. She looked at them all one last time and then she stepped into the center of the room.

Mycah edged toward her and they both lifted their fists in front of their faces. They began to circle each other, neither keen to make the first move. After a few minutes of this, the crowd got impatient and started jeering for Mycah to ‘just hit her already’. Arya chanced a look at Jon who gave her an encouraging nod. Arya whipped her head back to her opponent and swung a sharp right hook that hit him straight in the jaw.

Mycah stumbled back and looked utterly shocked that Arya had hit him. He glowered down at her and roared as he made to bring his fist down on her face.

But she wasn’t there anymore. Mycah stopped; bewildered as to where she could have gone when a hard kick in his back—right above his kidney—gave him his answer. He fell to his knees and coughed out a breath. He started to rise from the ground when Arya wrapped her arm around his neck to bring him into a headlock. Mycah only hesitated for a moment before he stood, and his height pulled Arya from her feet. He reached behind him and grabbed onto the racer back straps of Arya’s sports bra and tugged her over his head like she weighed no more than a feather. He let her drop to the floor and she fell hard on to her butt. Mycah kicked her hard in the side several times and she swung her foot up to make contact with his chest and knock the breath out of him. She touched her side tentatively as he caught his breath and winced at the soreness she found there. When she looked up Mycah’s fist was swinging toward her face. She felt her lip tear and tasted blood and spat some of it out of her mouth. Suddenly, Mycah’s hand was in her hair and he was rearing his fist back.

Arya knew this wasn’t good. The kicks to her side caused her entire right side to ache and she felt like she could hardly move. With her hair in his hand, it’d be hard to slip through his fingers.

But Arya was a wolf, and wolves don’t get butchered.

Wolves bite.

Mycah was still pulling his fist back when Arya pulled her head towards Mycah’s bicep and bit her teeth down hard. Mycah screamed and opened his hand thus releasing her hair. She swung her foot into the air towards his crotch. He let out a cry of pain and fell down on his arse.

Arya sprung to her feet and straddled Mycah—lining up her hips with his ribs. He began to sit up, but Arya returned him to his position on the ground with a quick punch to his nose. She grabbed his hair and pulled his head up as she began punching him. Blood flew from his mouth, but she didn’t stop. He wasn’t limp, he hadn’t tapped out, he hadn’t said stop. She switched which hand she punched with and after one pointed jab to his jaw on the left side, Mycah slammed his hand to the ground rather rapidly and Arya let go of him and slithered off to sit on the ground and catch her breath.

The crowd was silent but for the sound of Robb’s footsteps as he approached her. He pulled her to her feet and grabbed her hand.

“The winner of this fight,” Robb yelled as he lifted her arm into the air, “ARYA STARK!” The crowd roared and many guys approached to slap her on the back in victory. Jon and Robb lifted her onto their shoulders. Arya basked in the glory and didn’t let the indifference of certain faces in the crowd bring her down from her high.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, THANK YOU! Thanks to everyone for the kind reviews and kudos. A lot of you have expressed hopes for what's to come in regards to certain fights and the nature of the relationships in the story. This story is already fully written, but I am taking your wishes into consideration as I work on the sequel! This story just sets things up for the sequel and that one will focus more heavily on everyone's relationships (romantic and platonic) as well as resolving the conflict that is posed in this story. I'm excited to take this journey with you, and, once again, THANK YOU!

The ride home was a mixture of tension and celebration.

“That was brilliant, Arya,” Jon said. He was turned around in the passenger side seat with the biggest grin on his face.

“I will admit,” said Robb from the driver’s seat, “I had my doubts, but you proved me wrong. Mycah’s one of our best guys. He usually beats his opponent in five minutes or less.”

“How long were we fighting,” Arya queried. It hadn’t felt like more than five minutes, but it must have been longer.

“Near on half an hour.” It was the first thing Gendry had said since her fight had ended and it sounded sour in his mouth.

“What’s wrong with you now,” Arya huffed. She and Gendry were sitting in the backseat of Robb’s jeep and her brothers were glad for that—their bickering would be easier to ignore this way.

“Some of the fight was kind of close and…you’re hurt. Don’t even tell me that you’re not. You’re lip is still bleeding and your ribs are probably bruised,” Gendry said as gently as he could.

“I’ve had worse, okay? Why can’t you just congratulate me like everyone else,” Arya questioned.

“Because I’m not like everyone else.” Gendry regretted saying it the second it escaped his lips. He closed his eyes and cursed his own stupidity.

“And what _exactly_ is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It means nothing,” Gendry muttered.

“Why did you punch Joffrey,” she blurted. He looked at her with a bewildered look as he searched for an answer.

Gendry knew that he’d punched Joffrey because he’d been mocking his feelings for Arya, but he couldn’t admit that to her. He couldn’t tell her that he punched him because he cared for her and that Joffrey had made his feelings seem stupid and trivial.

“Because he was being a little shit,” Gendry spat. That was close enough to the truth.

“He’s always a little shit, but you aren’t always punching him,” Arya replied.

“He provoked me,” Gendry said in an exasperated manner.

“How?”

_By mocking my feelings for you_ he thought.

“By calling me a fucking bastard,” Gendry yelled. Arya stared at him for a moment and didn’t say anything. Gendry never yelled at her. He softened at the hurt look in her eyes and sighed. He’d gone too far.

“Better to be a bastard and a boy than a true born and a girl,” she spat.

“You know,” Gendry snapped in an attempt to get their conversation back on track, “you shouldn’t fight people that are bigger than you.”

“Then I wouldn’t get to fight anyone,” Arya quipped, and she turned away, ending their conversation.

* * *

 

Arya woke up the next day to the familiar clamor of her siblings fighting over the bathrooms. She swung her feet over the bed and closed her eyes at the aches throughout her body. Sansa had occupied one bathroom and Arya was completely convinced now that Sansa woke up especially early just to reach the bathroom first. Bran was in the other bathroom and no one dared rush him as he was now 16 and going through an…interesting time in his life. Rickon was stationed outside the bathroom Sansa was in and did not appear to be moving any time soon.

“Hey Rick,” Arya yawned.

“If you’re going to try and steal my spot in line,” Rickon said as he turned slowly to face her, “you shall have to duel me.” Arya couldn’t help but laugh at her younger brother and this only seemed to infuriate the 10 year old. If only he knew what she’d done last night. “What’s so funny?! Why are you laughing at me,” he protested.

“Sorry, Rickon, but I can’t talk about it,” Arya laughed as she walked down the hall to the second bathroom where Robb, Jon, and Gendry were waiting in different states of alertness. She winced at the pain in her side and poked at her ribs. They were still sore and probably very badly bruised. She scowled—Gendry was right.

Robb was standing by the door completely alert; the same could not be said for the other two. Gendry sat against the wall—trying desperately to stay awake, and Jon had given up all together and was curled into a ball on the ground and snoring rather loudly.

“Morning boys,” Arya bellowed. Gendry and Jon both jerked awake as she stood over them.

“Dear Seven, must you,” Gendry asked sleepily.

“The Seven mustn’t, but I must,” Arya quipped.

“Don’t be a smart arse,” Jon replied blearily.

“Don’t be rude,” Arya said as she kicked him lightly. The movement made her wince again and she crouched to the floor in pain.  Jon and Gendry exchanged a look of concern.

“That’ll be your ribs,” Gendry said with a slightly smug tone. She glared at him. He wouldn’t let this go. She nodded and groaned at the pain in her side. “Let me take a look.” He reached out a hand to lift the edge of her shirt up. She pulled away at first before letting him lift the cotton from her chest and prod gently at her side. She cursed her fair skin for coloring easily as she blushed. His fingers were callused and his hands were large against her side. She looked at him and smiled a bit to see that he was blushing, too.

“What’s your diagnosis, Dr. Waters,” she asked.

“A nice hot shower should do it,” he looked up at her as he let her shirt drop, “and taking it easy the next few days. Alright?” She nodded. “I’m sorry for yelling last night.” She smiled weakly at him and punched him gently. He smiled and reached out to muss her hair. She was glad that they were back to their normal selves.

She wasn’t completely sure of it, but she thought she felt his hand linger on her cheek as he pulled away.

“Have you ever been hurt in a fight? Do you have any scars?” Jon was asleep again and Robb had decided to sit on the floor and listen to Arya and Gendry’s conversation.

“Actually—,”

Gendry’s answer was cut short. At that moment Bran walked out of the bathroom fully dressed and with a book in his hand—Leo Tolsty’s _War and Peace_. Arya stifled a giggle at the cliché-ness of her brother.

“Arya, you can go ahead of me,” Robb said as he looked to where the bruises on her ribs were.

“Thank you kindly, brother dear,” she hopped to her feet and slipped into the bathroom. Once inside she flipped on the shower and jumped into the warm stream of water. She let out a small groan as the water soothed her aching muscles. She sighed and reached for the shampoo. As she washed her hair and rubbed the dried sweat from her skin she thought about the next step of her master plan.

* * *

 

Down at breakfast, Arya took a seat next to Sansa. She wondered if she should include Sansa in her plan. Not yet, she decided. She needed to test the waters with someone a bit more willing to fight before enlisting her sister. Rickon plopped down beside Arya and stared at her until she turned toward him.

“What,” Arya asked with a slight bite to her tone.

“Who do you think would win in a fight,” Rickon asked, “you or Joffrey?” Sansa whipped her head around to look at her younger brother.

“What on earth are you talking about, Rickon,” Sansa barked.

“I have a bet with Tommen. He says that Joffrey would win in a fight against any one of the Starks and I told him: no. Arya could beat Joffrey with her eyes closed and Tommen said that was a lie, so I’m conducting a study and asking around to see what everyone thinks.”

“Why me, why didn’t you say Robb could beat him,” Arya asked through a mouth full of eggs.

“Robb’s the obvious answer. Tommen wouldn’t take that bet because it’d be undeniable that I would win. You, however, are a wild card and because Tommen doesn’t know you as well as _I_ do, he has no idea of your ferocity.” Rickon concluded his little speech and Arya laughed.

“How much did you bet,” Arya asked amused.

“Eight Gold Dragons,” Rickon said proudly.

“RICKON,” bellowed everyone at the table.

“And where are you going to get _Eight Gold Dragons,_ young man,” asked Robb.

“From Gendry, of course.” Rickon said this as if it were common knowledge that Gendry supplied him with his betting money. Everyone at the table looked to Gendry who tried to act like he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. Finally, he looked up.

“The kid doesn’t lose,” Gendry exclaimed with a mouthful of bacon. “Besides,” he swallowed, “he splits his proceeds with me.”

“Nice to know you wouldn’t bet against me,” Arya said as she grinned at him. He returned her smile.

“Like Rickon said, young Tommen has _no_ idea of your ferocity.” The look he gave her was nearly primal and his tone on the word ‘ferocity’ made something in her stir.

“Well,” Arya said, focusing back in on Rickon, “in a fight between me and Joffrey Baratheon, it is my opinion that I would win.” She smiled and took a bite of bacon. Rickon nodded and pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen where he made a tick mark in a column.

“Sansa,” he asked in his most professional voice, “what do you think?”

“No offense, Arya, but Joffrey’s much bigger than you. You’ve no notion of _his_ ferocity. He’dwin.” Sansa returned to her breakfast and the table fell silent at Sansa’s slight reference to what many had suspected was an abusive relationship with Joffrey that had ended nearly a year ago. Just as Rickon was about to make a tick mark in another column, Sansa stopped him.

“Actually, Rickon,” she looked at her sister with a critical eye and smirked, “Arya could _definitely_ beat Joffrey.” Arya smiled at her sister and the two laughed. Arya was glad that their relationship grew closer with age. When she was young, she feared they’d never be close.

“Hey, Rick, what are your results so far,” Jon asked.

 “So far I have 48 for Arya and 25 for Joffrey.” Rickon began to walk away from the table with his data in one hand and several strips of bacon in the other.

“That’s 73 people, Rickon, who have you been asking,” Bran asked, looking up from his book. Rickon turned around and looked at his brother as if he were stupid.

“Everyone,” he replied and then he was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is predominately just advancing Arya and Gendry's relationship. To clear up about Gendry's living situation, he's been living with the Stark's since his mother died when he was 16. He's 21 now so that's 5 years. He used to share a room with Jon, but now has a small room to himself that used to be a sort of in house storage. Enjoy!

Robb sat on his bed with his massive German shepherd—Grey Wind—snoozing next to him. Gendry and Jon sat on the floor tossing popcorn into each other’s mouths.

Needless to say, they were bored.

“Either of you got your eyes on a girl,” Robb suddenly asked. Jon turned to look at his brother and a piece of popcorn hit him in the side of the face.

“My, what a dreamy tone you have, brother,” Jon teased while ignoring the assailment of popcorn flying towards him on Gendry’s behalf.

“I think _we_ should be asking _you_ that question,” Gendry said.

“Well,” Robb said turning to face them, “if you were to ask me, I’d tell you that _I_ have my eyes on one Jeyne Westerling.” He smiled and sprung off his bed thus rousing Grey Wind who jumped off the bed after his master and moved to snooze by his side on the floor instead.

“She is a lovely young lady. I wish you the best in your endeavors,” Gendry replied as he tossed a piece of popcorn at Robb. He caught it in his mouth, smiled cockily, and nodded a thank-you to his friend.

“Well,” Jon started timidly, “there is a girl, but…I’ve no idea what her name is.”

“What does she look like,” Robb asked as he scratched Grey Wind between the ears.

“She’s about average height, and quite thin,” he closed his eyes—trying to call her image back, “with long red hair.  Extremely red hair.” He opened his eyes and looked at Gendry. “She was in our Westeros History class in junior year.”

“Oh, I know her. Her name’s Ygritte,” Gendry nodded as he realized who Jon was talking about.

“Ygritte,” Jon sighed. Robb and Gendry broke out into laughter at Jon’s love-struck attitude.

“What about you Gendry,” Jon inquired as he blushed at his own behavior.

“Oh, no one,” Gendry lied. He turned red and tried to block out thoughts of Arya. Of course this only made him think of her more.

“That’s a lie if ever I heard one,” Robb grinned.

“C’mon,” Jon teased, “who is she?”

“No one,” Gendry said, “she’s no one.”

“Slightly different topic,” Robb said in an attempt to veer away from Gendry’s cryptic answers, “have either of you ever…” Jon and Gendry gave him blank looks and Robb lifted his eyebrows at them. “Y’know,” he started, “Seven Hell’s, have you ever had sex.”

Jon’s face turned tomato red and Gendry began stammering about how he’d had sex once or twice with a brief girlfriend during their second year of University. At the confession Jon turned to him—stunned his best friend had kept this secret from him for so long.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” Jon cried.

“I didn’t think you needed to know,” Gendry replied.

“How did you get that by us, we shared a flat,” Robb asked intrigued.

“We did it at her place.”

“Was it good,” Jon asked. Gendry contemplated for a minute and then opened his mouth to speak.

At that moment Arya burst into the room followed by Nymeria, her Siberian husky.

Nymeria ran over to Gendry and started licking his face. Arya thought it was interesting that her dog was as fond of Gendry as she was.

“Boys,” Arya smirked as she tugged Nymeria off of Gendry and took the spot next to him. “So,” she said, “what are we talking about?”

The boys looked back and forth between one another for a moment.

“Erm,” Gendry reddened and cleared his throat, “we were erm…talking about uh girls and those sorts of uh… _things_.” He looked up at her to see a look of embarrassment on her face.

“I’m gonna uh,” Arya searched for an answer. She ended up mumbling something about Rickon needing her help with something and left the room in a hurry. Nymeria whimpered and nudged at Gendry before following Arya out the door.

* * *

 

Gendry lay awake that night, unable to sleep. It was past 2:30 and he was physically exhausted from his fight earlier on in the night, but his mind was on fire. He closed his eyes and called her image back to him. She’d demolished Loras Tyrell. Seeing her standing over him in victory with her chest heaving and her hair a mess had stirred his gut into butterflies. He grinned to himself as he thought of her chest heaving and hair completely mussed, but for another reason entirely. He opened his eyes and almost shrieked to see her looming over him.

“Move over,” she hissed.

“What the fuck, Arya, no go back to bed,” he huffed as he turned away from her. She ripped his blankets off of him and shoved him in an effort to move him further towards the edge of the bed. Her efforts failed and she grumbled to herself. She hated how absolutely massive he was at times. He rolled over and glared at her and she began to push and shove at him relentlessly until he sighed and scooted over to make room for her. She crawled in beside him and pulled the blanket up to her neck. She closed her eyes and began to snooze.

“Arya,” Gendry whispered.

“Yes, Gendry?”

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing,” her eyes snapped open. “I’m sleeping.” She repositioned herself and closed her eyes again.

“Arya.”

“What,” she snapped.

“Why are you sleeping in _my_ bed,” he hissed. She huffed and rolled onto her stomach and groaned into the pillow melodramatically while he rolled his eyes.

“I can’t sleep you idiot,” she mumbled against his pillowcase. She inhaled deeply and was glad to know he couldn’t see her smile at the smell of him.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re in my bed,” Gendry noted. She turned towards him and glared.

“Where else am I supposed to go, stupid,” she spat. He smiled in spite of himself. She felt safe with him.

“Why not to one of your siblings,” he prodded. She considered for a moment and then shrugged.

“I can leave if you want,” she said as she began to rise from the bed. He reached out to grab her by the arm, but his hand fell to her waist instead and they both blushed.

Thank the Seven it was dark.

“Stay,” his voice was slightly husky when he said it and Arya’s heart beat faster at the sound.

“Why,” she asked. She turned her head ever so slightly towards him and their eyes met in the darkness, catching what little light was let in through the window and reflecting it back at each other. He pulled himself up towards her so that his chest was to her back and their faces were mere inches apart. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest and took solace to know that his breathing was quickening at the same pace as her own. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her neck before replying.

“I can’t sleep either.”

They looked at each other once more and he touched his forehead to hers as they breathed in tandem. He lay down and tugged her towards him and she turned so that they lay face to face. He pulled the blankets up over them and coiled his arm around.

Sleep came easy after that.

* * *

 

Gendry yawned and blinked away the morning light. He reached out towards where Arya lay and his heart broke to find she wasn’t there. He turned towards his clock to check the time and found it was blocked by a note. He reached out and pulled the slip of paper towards him. He rubbed his bleary eyes and squinted to read the elegant script that belonged to the girl whose warmth he missed.

            Had an early morning Skeleton practice. Didn’t want to wake you.  
            Thanks for the warmth and sweet dreams.

            Yours,

            Arya

He smiled at the way she’d signed it. _Yours._ He knew the excuse of an early morning Skeleton practice was absolute bollocks and that she probably just didn’t want Jon or Robb to walk in and see them cuddled so close together. Gendry also knew that it was easier for her to express emotions indirectly. He smiled at the piece of paper and traced his finger over her writing. On an impulse he reached over to the small bedside table and grabbed a slip of paper and a pen.

            Next time, wake me.  
            Thanks for the warmth and sweet dreams.

            Yours,

            Gendry

He jumped out of bed and walked down the hall to her room and slid the note under the door. He waited long enough to see her shadow moving towards the door before he silently bolted downstairs to breakfast.

He sighed. He really had it bad for her.

At least he was able to admit it now.


	6. Chapter 6

It’d been two weeks since Arya’s ambush of Fight Club and she was finally starting to feel like she belonged. She’d won every fight she’d had and had taken on guys more than twice her size at times. With each fight, Gendry became more confident in her, too; and, gradually, they stopped fighting as much. There was still the residual bickering that had always been there in their relationship, but when it came to Fight Club, they now agreed that she could fend for herself. Arya decided it was finally time for phase two of her plan.

“Where do you think you’re going,” Arya stiffened and turned to see her parents sitting on the couch in the living room and cursed the fact that the front door was visible from their perch. In hindsight, she should have snuck out the window, but then she would’ve crossed paths with Robb, Jon, and Gendry on their way to Fight Club and they couldn’t know what she was about to do.

“I’m going…out?” Arya smiled at her own weak attempt.

“Try again,” her father said. She stood there and considered for a moment. She decided that her best bet was a lie.

Or, as she referred to it, a half-truth.

“You remember the girl in my Psychology class last year who I kind of sort of became friends with,” she asked, hoping they’d remember the two occasions she’d mentioned the closest thing she’d had to a female friend throughout high school.

“Vaguely, yes,” replied her mother.

“Well,” this needed to be good. If it wasn’t a good enough reason, her parents would tell her it could wait until tomorrow morning. She decided to go with something close to the truth, “she just called me asking for help because her brother just beat her to a bloody pulp and she didn’t know who else to call.”

It wasn’t a total lie. Everyone knew about the abuse. It’s just that no one ever said anything.

“Arya, are you sure it’s safe for you to go over there,” her father asked.

“Yeah, she said that her brother stormed out of the house when he was done and that he was probably headed to Ros’s Bar and wouldn’t be back for a while,” Arya was getting dangerously close to the truth now.

“Well,” her father looked at her mother as they considered this, “be careful.”

Arya grinned back at them meekly.

“I always am.”

* * *

 

Arya pulled her car to a sharp stop outside the massive house that Aerys and Rhaella Targaryen had owned before their death so many years ago. Daenerys and Viserys lived there alone now.

Arya marched up to the front door and checked the time on her watch—11:59. Viserys would definitely be gone by now. She knocked on the door and waited. Daenerys Targaryen answered the door with a confused look on her face. She hadn’t seen Arya since they’d graduated from high school three weeks ago. She stepped aside and Arya walked in without either of them saying a word.

Daenery’s led Arya through the twisting halls of the Targaryen household until they reached a cavernous library with a roaring fire and hundreds of books. Daenerys sat down in a large velvet chair and looked pointedly to the couch across from it. Arya took that as her cue to sit.

“What are you doing here, Arya,” Daenerys demanded.

“I’m here to recruit you.”

Arya and Daenerys sat there staring at each other for quite a long time, and Arya wished that the girl across from her wasn’t so pensive.

“Recruit me for what,” Daenerys inquired, lifting an eyebrow.

“Fight Club,” Arya replied.

“What the _fuck_ is Fight Club?”

* * *

 

The two girls stood outside Ros’s Bar. Daenerys had seemed eager at first, but now that she was here, she felt extremely nervous. They pulled their hoods over their heads and opened the door.

They slipped through the crowd undetected just as Arya had the first time she snuck in. When Arya pulled the door open they had just finished the rules. Several members turned their heads and welcomed her once she took her hood down, but they stopped talking once they saw the figure behind her.

“Arya, who’s this,” Jon asked.

“A new member.” Arya lead Daenerys to the center of the circle. She still had her hood over her head and she looked to the ground. They’d planned this out before they left the Targaryen household. The big reveal was coming up.

“Boys, please welcome our newest member,” Arya cried over the whispers of the crowd. Daenerys gripped the edge of her sweatshirt and pulled it over her head. When her sports bra was revealed the whispers increased as they realized there was now a new female member, but the real shock came when she pulled the sweatshirt over her head and let her silver hair fall down her back and revealed her soft round face and violet eyes. Several of the guys gasped and shuffled around uneasily, but Viserys’s reaction was the worst of all.

“Daenerys,” he screeched in his high pitched voice. He marched into the center of the circle and grabbed her arm tight. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” She tried to yank her arm free of his grasp but failed as he tightened his grip.

“I’m here for the same reason you are,” she snapped. Her next words were dangerous and she knew that. “Because I have no idea what it feels like to be powerful or respected. Because I’m weak—just like you. And I want to feel strong.” Daenerys spat in her brother’s face and the crowd gasped. He slapped her hard across the face and she didn’t look the least bit shocked.

Arya supposed the rumors were true then. Viserys was abusive. She felt hands on her shoulders and jumped. She turned to see Gendry standing behind her. Gently, he tugged her out of the fighting area. Once they were safely out of the way he left his hands resting gently on her shoulders.

Viserys grabbed his sister’s hair and punched her in the face until blood dripped from her mouth. Daenerys reached out and gripped her brother’s shoulders. She caught her breath as Viserys laughed at her and then with a grunt she brought her knee in contact with his groin with full force. Viserys hunched over and Daenerys took her knee back again before swinging it into contact with his nose. Arya chuckled. Joffrey still had a bandage on his nose from where Gendry had punched him two weeks ago. Viserys and Joffrey would match now.

Daenerys grabbed her brother’s hair and pulled his face up to be level with hers, his back curved and his knees bent. She knotted her fingers in his hair and head-butted him so hard she staggered back and he fell to the ground. She walked over to him as he lay on the ground groaning and bloodied. She pulled her foot back and kicked him once, twice, three times in the ribs.

“Stop,” he cried. He coughed and blood smattered the floor. “Stop!”

Daenerys stepped back and wiped the tears from her eyes. Two of Viserys cronies pulled him to his feet and Daenerys crossed to him two long strides.

“The next time you lay a hand on me,” Daenerys said in a frighteningly low tone, “will be the last time you have hands.”

“The winner of this fight:,” Robb said solemnly as he approached her, “Daenerys Targaryen.”

The cheering started out with just a few claps here and there until finally the entire room was clapping and cheering uproariously.

Well, all except Viserys’s sinister group.

* * *

 

Daenerys and Arya sat alone in Arya’s room with her small lamp lighting the room.

“What’s wrong,” Arya prodded gently.

“I wantto feel _strong_ , but I,” she took a deep breath, “I can’t stop crying.” Arya took Daenerys in her arms and hugged her.

“Crying doesn’t make you weak, Dany. It makes you human.” Daenerys pulled away from Arya’s embrace.

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

Arya didn’t have an answer for that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that there is more fighting coming! Thank you all so much for reading, I will update either tomorrow or Saturday.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I called you all here today,” Arya said. She had, in her bedroom, nearly 20 girls. They sat on the floor beneath her while she hopped lightly on her bed. She looked around at the faces in the room. There were girls her age like Daenerys who sat at the foot of Arya’s bed with her best friend Missandei at her feet; girls Sansa’s age like Margarey Tyrell who was actually quite good friends with Sansa and whose brother was also a member of Fight Club. However, Sansa was not present at this meeting. Arya would have to talk to her about this one on one.

Still, there were girls Robb and Jon’s age like Jeyne Westerling and Ygritte and Osha. Arya had even convinced Brienne Tarth, the oldest of them there, to come to this meeting, although, admittedly, convincing Brienne Tarth to fight wouldn’t be entirely that difficult.

“I am here to recruit you for a club,” Arya continued. “Fight Club, to be exact.” At this, the crowd broke out into whispers. Daenerys silenced them all quickly and motioned for them to return their gaze to Arya who nodded silent thanks to her newfound friend.

“I guess I should start from the beginning,” Arya sighed. “Three years ago, when my brothers Robb and Jon and their friend Gendry Waters were all 18, they got into some stupid fight about some stupid thing. After this fight the three of them decided to start this club which they lamely named ‘Fight Club’—how original—where a bunch of stupid boys get together in the basement of Ros’s Bar and fight until one of them gives up or passes out.

“I have only known about the club for a year and I wouldn’t know about it at all if my idiotic brothers knew how to fucking whisper when having private conversations. Anyway, the club only meets in the summer and I was the first girl to join and I joined because I wanted to and because frankly,” she paused and took a deep breath and looked at Dany for support before continuing, “frankly, the guys in this town treat us girls like utter shit.” Arya plopped down on to her bed, bounced slightly, and sighed. “Haven’t you noticed? Every day at school, on the streets,” she looked at Daenerys, “in our _homes_. They treat us pretty piss poor. I’m sick of it. I’m not saying that the only way to get them to respect us is to fight them, but, at least, in my experience, it opens their eyes. They start to realize that you’re a human that can hit and kick and bleed. Just like them.

“So, there’s a meeting tonight and if you want to go, meet me and Dany outside Ros’s bar at 12:30. Don’t show up any sooner because I don’t want them to know I have this planned. I printed out a list of all their stupid rules and some extra instructions for my plan at the bottom.” Arya and Daenerys handed out the slips of paper and the girls filed out of the Stark household in a single file line.

“Do you think anyone will come,” Dany asked.

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

* * *

 

Brienne stared down at the stark white paper.

            THE DUMB RULES PUT IN PLACE BY THE DUMB BOYS

  1.        You do not talk about Fight Club.
  2.        You DO NOT talk about Fight Club.
  3.        If someone yells ‘stop’, taps out, or goes limp, the fight is over.
  4.        Only two guys to a fight.
  5.        One fight at a time.
  6.        Fights are bare knuckle. No weapons. No shoes. No shirt.
  7.        Fights go on as long as they have to.
  8.        If this is your first night of Fight Club you have to fight.



Meet outside Ros’s Bar at 12:30. DO NOT ARRIVE ANY EARLIER!!!  
Wear shorts, a sports bra, and a sweatshirt with a hood.  
We’ll walk in around12:35 HOODS UP.  
When I say ‘Welcome to Fight Club’, everyone takes off their sweatshirts.

Sincerely,

Arya Stark

P.S. If you don’t come, see rules 1 and 2.

P.P.S. In accordance with rules 1 and 2 please burn the hell out of this so no one finds it.

Brienne furrowed her brow. She lit a match and set the paper on fire. She held it in her hand as it burned and let the dying flames lick her palm. She looked into the mirror and sighed. She was a 25 year old woman and she’d never been kissed. Not that she was really surprised. Her entire life she had been ‘too’. Too big, too tall, too strong.

Too ugly.

She laughed bitterly and shook her head. She knew what everyone thought of her. She heard it in their giggles and saw it in their stares. People thought she was a freak. Not because she was big and tall and strong, but because she was all these things _and a woman_. Brienne had always been envious of girls like Arya and her sister. In fact, she’d been envious of every girl in that room earlier today. They were all so small, so dainty looking to her. She had always supposed that life had been easy for them. It had never occurred to her that normal or abnormal, it didn’t matter when you were a woman. That, in and of itself, was a disability.

Brienne clenched her fist around the little pile of ashes that was left by the slip of paper and decided it was time she show these boys just how strong she was.

* * *

 

It was 9’o’clock when Arya knocked on her sister’s bedroom door. Sansa opened the door and actually looked a bit surprised to see her sister standing on the other side of it.

“Come in,” Sansa said almost too formally. Arya entered her sister’s room and was reminded once again of how different they were. Where her own room was more of an organized chaos with too many books on the shelves and clothes hanging out of drawers, Sansa’s room was pristine and perfect.

“What do you want,” Sansa asked from her bed. She was looking at Arya rather skeptically. Arya hardly ever sought out conversation with her unless she needed something.

“Well,” Arya swallowed thickly and then it all came spilling out at once, “three years ago before they went off to University, Robb, Jon, and Gendry started this club called ‘Fight Club’ where a bunch of guys get together and sort of beat the shit out of each other and I decided last year that I was going to crash it this summer and so I did and tonight myself and a bunch of other girls from town are going to crash the club and fight them and, hopefully, most of us will win.”

Sansa sat in silence and stared at her sister in disbelief.

“Why?”

“Why what,” Arya huffed.

“Why are you doing this and why are you telling me,” Sansa replied.

“I’m doing it in the hopes that they’ll get their heads out of their arses and realize that girls are their equals and not just dumb baby making machines and I’m telling you because,” she took a deep breath, “I want you to come with me.”

More silence.

“Absolutely not,” Sansa protested.

“Why not,” Arya whined.

“I don’t know how to fight! I can’t go out and fight a man!”

“Not with that attitude,” Arya spat. “Besides, you know plenty well how to fight. You could beat the shit out of me when we were little.”

“We were kids then. Arya, look, this is your thing. I don’t want to stop you but I’m not going to join you I’m too,” Sansa stopped on the edge of her word.

“Too what,” Arya snapped. “Too weak?! Did Joffrey drill that so insistently into your mind when you were dating that you _actually_ started to believe it?” Arya stood from her chair and stomped towards Sansa’s door. Just as she was about to leave she turned around.

“You’re not _weak_ , Sansa. You’ve never been weak. You’re scared. They’re often confused to be the same thing. But like dad always says—the only time you can be brave is when you’re afraid.”

“By that logic,” Sansa replied, “bravery is often confused with strength.”

Arya turned around and the door behind her.

* * *

 

Sansa looked at her watch.

12:01.

She’d heard the trademark sounds of Arya slipping out of her room about five minutes ago. Arya had always thought she was discreet when she snuck out, but Sansa always knew. She looked at the sheet of paper that Arya had stuffed under her door about an hour and a half ago that detailed the rules of Fight Club. She shook her head and stuck the paper into the book she’d been reading to mark her place. Sansa walked over to the full length mirror in her room and hummed softly to herself. She noted the beauty of her face and remembered the times in her life where she’d been able to convince boys to do things for her with nothing but a smile. She chuckled to herself cynically. Arya was right. The men in this town didn’t respect their women.

In truth she didn’t know why she was so afraid. She’d already faced abuse with Joffrey, and she’d overpowered him then—what’s to say she wouldn’t be able to do the same now? She closed her eyes. That had only been a slap to the face. She hadn’t fought him. It was always Joffrey who threw the punches—never her.

She hated to admit it to herself, but the idea of fighting Joffrey and overcoming made her nearly giddy. When they had been dating those sorts of thoughts was often what she would find herself daydreaming about. She had daydreamed of winning her freedom from that wretched boy—not of marrying him as so many thought.

She looked in the mirror and shook her head in disbelief. Sansa grabbed her sweatshirt and opened her window.

The night air was inviting. It called to her to win her freedom. It called for her to fight.

* * *

 

It was 12:30. The boys were in the basement and the girls were outside. At the moment, Arya couldn’t tell who all had shown up because of their drawn hoods. However, it looked, by the sheer number of them anyway, that everyone at her meeting earlier that day arrived. She motioned for them to follow her and she tugged the door to the bar open.

It wasn’t so easy for them to go unnoticed now. There were nearly 20 hooded figures weaving their way through Ros’s—not exactly inconspicuous. Ros called out to them as Arya gripped the handle to the basement.

“What are you all _doing_ down there,” she asked befuddled. Arya turned her head in Ros’s direction.

“Don’t worry yourself with it, Ros,” she looked up into the woman’s eyes, “it’s just a stupid club.”

And they disappeared into the darkness of the basement.

* * *

 

When they saw the crowd of people descending the stairs Gendry and Jon immediately stopped reciting the rules. The boys parted for the hooded figures as Arya, still hooded herself, lead them to the center of the room. She took off her own sweatshirt and let the boys see her face.

“Welcome to Fight Club,” she said.

In unison, the other women gripped their sweatshirts and pulled them over their heads. Members of the crowd gasped as the faces of girls they recognized were revealed.

There Arya stood, surrounded by Daenerys, Missandei, Margaery Tyrell, Brienne Tarth, Ygritte, Osha, Jeyne Westerling, and a multitude of others.

But the girl that everyone, including Arya, was shocked to see was none other than Sansa Stark standing tall and beautiful with her long hair flowing down her back.

“You came,” Arya choked out to her elder sister.

“Of course I came, don’t be stupid,” Sansa snapped. Her face softened into a smile and she swung her arm around Arya’s shoulders.

“Well don’t just stand there,” Arya called, “we have new members. They need to fight.”


	8. Chapter 8

Thus far, all but five of the girls had won their fights and Sansa was the last to go. Arya found herself feeling a sense of déjà vu as she bound her sister’s knuckles before the fight. Sansa looked nervous but determined as she looked across the open space at her opponent.

  
Joffrey Baratheon, the little shit. He jumped at the opportunity to fight Sansa and looked a little too eager.

  
Arya was worried about Sansa fighting Joffrey. She’d seen him fight and he was absolutely brutal. He didn’t always win, but his opponents always walked away with some scars. Joffrey and Sansa had hated each other ever since their senior year of high school, now three years past, when Sansa had broken up with him in a rather public manner. Arya was still fuzzy on the details, but she’d heard from Gendry that the breakup involved the words ‘narcissistic cunt’ coming from Lady Sansa’s mouth and a sharp slap to Joffrey’s face that was red and swollen for days.

  
Arya supposed that this fight was long in the making.

  
Joffrey stood across the open space binding his own knuckles and talking to Viserys. Arya was glad to see that his nose was crooked from getting it reset after Daenerys broke it and she smiled to herself. Her sister’s shaky breaths brought her back to the present.

  
“You okay,” Arya asked. She took both of Sansa’s hands in her own and gripped them tightly. Sansa jumped up and down to loosen her muscles a bit before opening her eyes and looking down at her sister.

  
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied.

  
“Go get the narcissistic cunt,” Arya joked. Sansa laughed and blushed at the reference and walked to the center of the ring.

  
Joffrey didn’t hesitate. He swung at her with his right arm, but Arya had warned Sansa that this was Joffrey’s signature move and ducked just in time and jabbed him straight in the stomach. He huffed out a thick breath as the air was knocked out of him. Sansa took several steps back to the edge of the rink to get out of his way as he began to swing wildly. A few feet away Arya and Jon high-fived at their sister’s nice hit. She turned to look at them. They both nodded to her enthusiastically and she returned a small smile. Sansa began to edge back towards Joffrey as he’d stopped practically flailing for her and seemed to be able of a coherent fight once more. She swung a left hook towards his jaw and made contact. Sansa then swung a kick up to his side, and, while she did hit her mark, Joffrey caught her leg and twisted it back so that they both fell to the ground. Her leg still in his grasp, Sansa whirled her left arm towards his face. Joffrey released his grip on her leg to grab her arm instead and Sansa took the opportunity to kick him in his ribs. Joffrey spluttered for a moment before tangling his fingers in her thick hair and punching her all over her body. His fist made contact with her stomach, her arms, her face, and on the edge of the crowd Arya reached and gripped Gendry’s hand tightly. He squeezed back reassuringly and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

  
“Sansa’s a smart girl. She’s not letting him win, she’s looking for an opening.”

  
And sure enough, once Joffrey stopped hitting her to catch his breath, Sansa swung her legs around his hips and slapped him so hard in the face that he fell down on his back clutching his cheek. Sansa reared her hand back again and clawed Joffrey’s face and he let out a sharp shriek. Sansa punched him continuously until she stood to catch her breath. She took a step back and looked at the pathetic man before her. She wanted to stop—wanted to end it here with her standing before him and victory clear yet unsung.

  
Rule Number 7: Fights go on as long as they have to.

  
Sansa sighed and thought of how she could end this quickly. She approached Joffrey's legs and kicked them open as he continued to groan on the floor. She brought her foot back to prepare a kick.

  
“Stop,” he shrieked. His hands scrambled to cover his genitals as he rapidly scooted out of her way and into the safe arms of his gang.

  
The crowd broke out into cheers and Robb was barely heard over their noise as he yelled his sister’s name as the winner. Gendry smiled at Arya she smiled back up at him, their fingers still entwined. In that moment, in the middle of the cheering crowd, Arya thought he would kiss her. Someone shoved them rather sharply and she fell forward and their hands slipped through one another as she caught herself on a stranger’s back.

  
Gendry laughed and smiled at her. He tried to ignore the tightness in his chest and the sad feeling that their moment had passed. Because for a moment in the middle the cheering crowd, Gendry thought he would kiss her, too.

* * *

 

The next morning, Arya woke up to see Robb and Jon’s faces over her. She jumped in her bed before smacking them both on the side of the head rather harshly. They laughed and took their seats on the small couch she had in her room. Gendry, as usual, was not far behind them and when he entered her bedroom he tossed her an apple and took a seat at the end of her bed. They looked at each other for a moment too long and both began blushing. The pair secretly prayed that their exchange went unnoticed by her brothers.

  
It didn't.

  
However, they continued on with their planned conversation instead of pestering them on what exactly that look was about.

  
“We need you to introduce us,” Jon said. Arya took a bite out of the apple Gendry’d given her and looked between her brothers bewilderedly.

  
“Jon this is Robb, Robb that’s Jon. This here’s Gendry Waters, and I’m your host, Arya Stark,” she sassed. “Now that we all know each other what the fuck are you on about,” she asked through crunches of her apple.

  
“Very funny, she-wolf,” Jon smirked. Robb tried to keep them on track.

  
“It has come to our attention,” Robb began, “that you are in the acquaintance of Jeyne and Ygritte. Jon and I were hoping that you would do us the courtesy of introducing us.

  
Arya took another bite out of her apple and considered for a moment whether or not she should mess with her brothers now, or save her energy for later. She looked at the clock beside her bed and saw that it wasn't even 7:30 yet. Entirely too early. She’d save her energy for later then.

  
“Whatever,” she replied. She wiped a bit of juice from her lip and tried to ignore the way Gendry was staring at her.

  
“Wonderful,” Jon clapped his hands, “when shall we do it then?”

  
Arya considered for a moment, “I suppose today would be fine.”

  
“Today,” Robb asked surprised.

  
“Yeah, I was gonna have the girls over to talk strategy. I could just ask them to come over early and casually introduce you.”

  
“That’d be—,” Jon found himself searching for a word.

  
“Brilliant,” supplied Robb. Jon nodded in enthusiastic agreement and the two started for the door.

  
“Coming, Gendry?”

  
“Erm,” he looked in between his friends and Arya, “I’ll be there in a minute, yeah?” Jon and Robb looked at each other knowingly and left the room.

  
“I just want you to know,” Gendry cleared his throat and tugged his eyes up to look at her, “I think what you’re doing is really spectacular. Some of the guys haven’t really caught on yet, but I understand what you’re doing and I really respect it.”

  
“You didn't seem so keen when I first started out,” Arya pointed out with a smirk.

  
“I just didn't want you to get hurt. Have you seen Mycah? He’s huge. Bigger than the things he butchers.”

  
“All that coming from the Bull,” she teased. They laughed until their laughter dribbled into nothing in the air. "Why do you care if I get hurt or not,” she blurted out. She couldn't bear to look at him when he gave his answer.

  
“Don’t ask stupid questions, Arya.” She turned her face to look at him, but he was already gone.

  
She wondered if she’d imagined it all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close to the end of this story! I am working on the sequel presently, but the work is slow going. For all of you expressing excitement about more couple scenes-I promise that there will be more in the sequel. This story is mainly a setup of the main plot and the sequel will focus more on the characters relationships with one another and resolve the conflict that will be posed in the upcoming chapters.  
> Thank you all for reading!

Jeyne and Ygritte had been at the Stark residence nearly every day since Arya had introduced them to her brothers.

It wasn’t exactly that they were dating. At least, not in Jon and Ygritte’s case. They’d fight, make-up, make-out and then be fighting about something else entirely all in the span of an hour.

Arya had never seen him happier.

As for Jeyne and Robb, the two were smitten. They simultaneously couldn’t keep their hands off of each other and couldn’t quit talking to one another. Finally, Arya escaped the confines of her home to go out with Daenerys.

The two were headed off to King’s Landing University in a little over a month and still had a multitude of shopping to do. Daenerys and Arya would be staying in a small house on the brink of campus with Sansa and Arya was becoming more and more excited about the prospect as the move in day surged closer. Ever since Sansa had joined Fight Club, she and Arya had become closer than they’d ever been.

Arya and Daenerys were strolling through the pet store buying supplies for Nymeria (Arya had finally convinced her mother to let her bring her beloved pet with her), when Dany spotted them.

There were three of them curled up into little balls in a cage together—one black, one red, and one green. Daenerys grabbed the nearest store clerk and requested that he let her hold them. He hesitated at first, but upon further consideration, he conceded. He reached into the cage and pulled the ball pythons out one by one. Daenerys let them curl around her like she was a tree and smiled so brightly that Arya couldn’t help but smile, too. It was then, with snakes curling around her that she spotted _him_.

He had an iguana sitting on his shoulder, which would have looked massive if it hadn’t been for his own size. Arya guessed he must have been at least six and a half feet tall. He had long, black dreadlocks hanging down his back and a full beard on his face. The black tank top he wore made the tattoos along his shoulders fairly visible: four blue lines on each shoulder that took the shape of claw marks.

He smirked at Daenerys as she laughed at the slithering motion of the snakes all around her. He looked down at the product in his hands before deciding to approach. Arya leaned towards Daenerys to say something to her about the stranger before he reached them, but noticed that she seemed to be as taken with him as he was with her. Arya decided that she’d venture out in search of more dog food instead and wondered why it was so difficult for her to escape from people in love as of late.

“I’m Drogo,” he said in a low timber. There was a slight accent to his voice.

“Daenerys,” she replied. She extended a hand to him and the black snake slithered from her arm and up his and she smiled as she tugged him back to her. She yanked their cage from off the shelf and placed the snakes in there one by one. When she looked back up at him she was shocked to see he was staring at her.

“Have you had snakes before,” he asked averting his eyes from hers to instead focus on the pythons.

“Once,” she smiled, “my father used to have massive snakes when I was little. They were the kindest things to me. Hated my brother, Viserys, though,” she chuckled at the memory of one of the snakes hissing at her brother incessantly as the young boy shrieked. “However, when my parents died, we just couldn’t keep them. I was too young to care for them and my brother hated them with a passion. What about you,” she said flicking her gaze up to him, “is this your first pet?”

“What, little Zuberi, here?” He tugged the iguana from his shoulder and held him gently in his large hands before tenderly handing him off to Daenerys. “He’s my first small pet. I own several horses, though.” He smiled at the mention of his animals.

“You have horses,” she asked him eagerly.

“I have five,” he laughed. She looked at him with a smile on her face as she held the iguana tenderly in her hands. “So, where do you go to school,” he tried to keep the conversation going.

“I’m starting undergrad at King’s Landing in the fall,” she said. “What about you?”

“I’m getting my Masters at Dothraki University,” he replied with a nod.

“Oh, that’s not too far from King’s Landing! You should come visit me sometime.” She blushed at her own forwardness and lowered her head as he raised his eyebrows at her in slight surprise.

“I’d love to,” Drogo offered gently. She smiled and handed his iguana back to him as he handed her his phone to put her number and address in.

“I’ll text you the date that I move in,” she smiled as she handed the phone back to him, “I’m sure we could use your muscle for some heavy lifting.” He chuckled and then let out a small ‘oh’ when he felt something slither up his leg. He looked down to see that the black python had found its way out of the cage and was sliding up his leg. Daenerys ducked and pried it from his leg as they both began to laugh. “You clearly like him more than me,” she said to the snake in her hands. Drogo smiled jovially and stroked the snake gently between the eyes.

* * *

 

Gendry sat on the back patio of the Stark house sketching a war helmet in the shape of a bull’s head. He looked up to see Arya playing with Rickon in the backyard. Nymeria and Rickon’s dog, a sheep dog he’d named Shaggy Dog (he was only five at the time), imitated their master’s movements. Arya was teaching Rickon the basics of Skeleton. She had her sled out in the yard and showed him how to steer with his knees and how to get the ultimate running start. She even let him wear her helmet. She laughed as Rickon fell on to the sled a bit too hard and looked up at Gendry. She raised her hand in a wave and he returned the gesture and her smile. He flipped to the next page in his sketch book and started a new drawing of a girl with short hair and a wicked smile.

“What are you drawing?” Rickon was suddenly in front of him with Arya’s helmet still on his head. Gendry jumped and flipped back to the page with the bull’s head helmet on it.

“Nothing,” he stuttered. He looked up to see Arya marching towards them with a smile on her face.

“It didn’t look like nothing,” Rickon insisted, “It looked like Arya.” Rickon was the perfect mix of Arya’s bluntness and Bran’s intelligence. It annoyed the hell out of Gendry.

“What looked like me,” Arya asked as she yanked her helmet off of Rickon’s head. He was close to being taller than her now.

“Nothing,” Gendry snapped looking sharply at Rickon.

“Not nothing, Gendry’s drawing,” Rickon said snarkily. Arya leaned around her younger brother to see the sketch Gendry had of a bull’s helmet and raised her eyebrows. She smacked Rickon sharply on the back of the head.

“That looks nothing like me, don’t be rude, Rickon,” Arya teased.

“That’s not it! He was drawing you I swear!” Rickon pleaded.

“C’mon, let’s go get some lunch, yeah,” she opened the patio door and went into the house. Rickon glared at Gendry as he huffed inside. Gendry smirked and flipped back to finish his sketch.

Little did he know that Arya stood on the other side of the glass door watching his pencil move across the page and a blush creeping across her cheeks.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eek! Only two more chapters after this one! I will warn you that this chapter and the next have mentions and slight descriptions of rape/non-con. This is the chapter where the conflict is introduced. I'm currently working on the sequel and hope to start posting some of it by mid-March at the earliest and early April at the latest. Thank you all again!

Arya woke up to the sight of Gendry standing above her, his face inches from her own, and stubble on his face. His eyes were wild as he shook her by the shoulders and urged her awake. She pushed him from her and stretched as she rolled over to look at her clock—2:48 a.m.

“It’s early,” she slurred through her tiredness, “what the fuck are you waking me up for.”

“Sansa,” he said. She sat bolt upright and looked at him. He was digging through her drawers and tossing clothes in her direction. She snatched them up and put them on.

“What happened to Sansa,” Arya asked. She was suddenly alert as she followed Gendry out into the garage. He was shaking and covered in sweat. “What happened, is she alright, where is everyone?”

“Sansa…hospital—Joffrey,” was all that Gendry could stammer out of his mouth. Arya understood what he was trying to say, and she felt like she had been punched in the stomach. This pain was worse than any hit to the jaw or kick to the ribs.

She could only imagine how Sansa felt.

* * *

 

They were the last to arrive at the hospital. A nurse led them through several twisting halls and into a large waiting room; the sight before her left Arya breathless.

Her parents sat next to each other clutching each other tightly. Rickon sat on the floor before his parents with Bran next to him. They all looked so tired. Robb and Jon were standing and pacing—they looked more furious than tired. But what shocked Arya the most was the sight of the girls. Daenerys and Missandei sat sipping coffee in silence. Margaery was sitting with her brother, Loras, and his boyfriend, Renly, and they all looked on the edge of tears. Jeyne and Ygritte talked tersely while glancing at Robb and Jon every few minutes. And Brienne Tarth stood by the door and appeared to be guarding it. Still, there were more people in the room, all of them members of Fight Club, all of them on the brink of tears. All of them furious that Joffrey would do something like this. Arya walked up to Robb and he took her tightly into his arms.

“What happened,” Arya’s voice was muffled against his chest.

“She went out for a drink with a couple of her ‘friends’,” Arya could hear the disgust in his voice when he said the word and she closed her eyes against him. “They gave her a drink with…something in it and Sansa blacked out. The people she went to the bar with were probably paid off by the little fuck, because they just left her there. I’m not sure about the details after that, and I don’t really want to know but…he raped her. He raped her and then,” he stopped as he tried to control his tears; he gave up the effort and let them fall, “he left her in the alley. She wasn’t found for nearly an hour.”

“Who found her,” Arya asked. It was just now that she realized that she was crying, too.

“I did.” Arya whipped her head around to see the man that belonged to the voice.

Tyrion Lannister stood before her, she hadn’t noticed him before. He was one of the professors at King’s Landing and Arya remembered hearing Sansa say something about being eager to take his class in the fall.

“How did you know it was Joffrey,” Arya blurted. She had no doubt it was true, but she wanted to know how the answer had been found.

“I don’t think you want to know,” the half man eased.

“If I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t have asked,” she spat. She saw several people in the room exchange glances before Tyrion gave her his answer.

"He wrote ‘narcissistic cunt’ across her chest in what appeared to be her own blood.”

Arya’s mother broke out into a renewed round of sobs and Arya put her fist through the window.

* * *

 

“She’d like to see you now,” the doctor said from the doorway.

“Who,” asked Catelyn Stark as she drew herself away from her husband. “Who would she like to see?”

“Well,” the doctor considered for a moment, “if you don’t make too much commotion, you can all go in.”

The crowd stood and gathered up their things. Some people had left earlier on in the night and brought back flowers and balloons. They all gathered their things and went down the hall to Sansa’s room.

Sansa sat up in bed. She’d been awake for a while, but didn’t want her family to see her cry. Once she’d gained control of her tears she’d told her doctor to bring them all in. She closed her eyes. She could still see Joffrey standing over her as he kicked her legs open in much the same manner she’d done when they fought in Fight Club. The only difference was that he didn’t stop, no matter how many times she’d begged.

But when her family and friends all funneled into the room carrying flowers and balloons she broke out into tears again. Rickon rushed forward and jumped onto the bed with Sansa and gripped her tight. She hugged him back as everyone filed into the room. Robb and Jon took a post on one side of her bed while her parents stood by her other side. Bran sat down on the end of the bed and began to rub her feet gently. Arya, however, only stood at the foot of the bed and looked at her sister as she hugged Rickon. Arya thought this was her fault. No doubt Joffrey had done this because he was embarrassed that Sansa had beaten him the other night. If Arya hadn’t asked Sansa to come, if Arya had taken no for an answer, if Arya hadn’t pushed her sister. Sansa looked up at her sister and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Stop being stupid and get over here,” she snapped. Arya chuckled and let herself cry as she crawled up the bed and curled up with Sansa and Rickon. As she lay in the warm embrace of her siblings, Arya vowed to beat Joffrey to a bloody pulp.

Everyone else in the room promised themselves the same thing.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next to last chapter! It's presently looking like I won't be putting up any chapters of the sequel until early April just because I don't have a lot of time to work on it at the moment. I appreciate all of the kind comments, they really keep me going! Thank you, I love you, enjoy.
> 
> Warning: this chapter, like the last, talks of rape and abuse.

After Sansa’s attack, Joffrey didn’t show his face. Arya was both immensely glad for this and utterly furious. She was glad because she was afraid of what she might do if she saw him—she was afraid that she wouldn’t be able to control her fury. However, it angered her that he was such a coward that he would attack her sister and then hide from the public. Arya shook her head and continued folding her clothes. She was moving into the small house she’d share with Sansa and Daenerys tomorrow and she felt conflicted about that as well. She’d be at the same university as most of her friends and family, but it’d be harder to exact her revenge upon Joffrey since he attended Casterly Rock University. She shoved her clothes into her suitcase rather unceremoniously as she thought of how she could avenge her sister. Just then a knock came at her door and she looked up to see Sansa standing there—tall and beautiful and broken, but slowly mending herself.

“Do you want any help?” Sansa crossed the room to sit on Arya’s bed. She tried to hide a wince as she walked, but Arya noticed. Arya averted her eyes from her sister’s and shook her head. She felt guilty that Sansa had been attacked, and she still found it hard to look at her. “Arya, look at me.” She shook her head. Sansa reached out and tenderly grabbed Arya’s hands and tugged her towards her. “Arya, listen. It’s not your fault.”

“Yes it is,” Arya choked out a sob, “if I hadn’t encouraged you to go, if I hadn’t pushed you, if I hadn’t told you at all—you wouldn’t have fought him, you wouldn’t have won.” “Arya, the reason he did this to me is because he’s insecure. He feels inadequate. It’s not just because I beat him in one fight. He did this because of a multitude of things in our past.” Sansa sighed and pulled Arya to sit in her lap. She was still so small—so like a child, but she was probably the strongest of all the Stark children. “Did I ever tell you why I broke up with Joffrey,” Sansa asked. Arya curled into her sister’s chest and shook her head gently. “Well, there were several reasons and several moments that really lead to it in the end, but I’ll hit the big points. He was selfish. He loved himself more than he loved me and I didn’t really get anything out of it. I was so caught up with it being my ‘first love’ that I couldn’t see how one-sided it was. What’s worse is that he pressured me to do things. He wanted me to wear certain clothes and wear my hair a certain way and I didn’t want to, but he would threaten me. Towards the end of our relationship he was pressuring me for,” she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, “he wanted to have sex with me but I wasn’t ready. He was rude and condescending and patronizing. We were out in public one day and he kept grabbing at me and saying the foulest things and I lost it. I slapped him clean across the face, called him multiple things—including a narcissistic cunt—and that was it.” She smoothed Arya’s hair over her head and gripped her sister tighter. “Don’t blame yourself for this, Arya. It’s not your fault.” Arya nodded fervently against Sansa’s chest but did not move. They sat there until their parents called them down for dinner and left the room closer than they’d ever been before.

* * *

 

Sansa sat upright in her bed and heaved in a heavy breath. She started hyperventilating as she scrambled toward her night stand to flick on her bedroom light. The light from the lamp filled the room and her eyes scattered from corner to corner looking for his sinister face. She sighed and placed her hand to her chest. It was just a dream. It was just a nightmare. She felt a surge in her stomach and stumbled down the hall to the bathroom. She heaved thrice and her dinner came spilling out into the toilet. She took a deep breath and vomited again until her stomach was empty and there was nothing but bile. Sansa started to cry as she wiped the stray bits from her mouth. She hobbled to the sink and brought water to her lips with shaking hands. Her hands looked so different now; more bone than skin and her fingers looked too long. She looked into the mirror and her tears came harder. There were dark circles under her eyes from her sleepless nights, her hair was duller and it lay lank against her head, and her face was gradually being reduced to nothing but skin and bones. The soft curve of her cheeks was being replaced by the sharp lines of her bone structure, but not in the pleasant and womanly way that her mother’s was. She was losing her softness because of her diminished health. She wiped the tears from her eyes and closed them as she shrunk to the floor. She sobbed as silently as she could and reached up behind her to lock the door. She took a few deep breaths before letting her hand slowly crawl to the apex of her thighs. She placed her other hand over her mouth as a new wave of sobs wracked through her. She pulled her hand from her thighs to be in front of her and looked at the blood as it dripped towards her palm. She ran water over her hand but could still see the red. All she saw was red and his face as he leaned over her. Sansa grabbed a rag and wet it and began to rub the blood from her body. The bleeding had hardly stopped ever since the incident, and when it did it was only for a few days. She closed her eyes and his image came back to her and with it his voice. _I love you, Sansa. I love you, but you need to learn. You need to learn your place._ Sansa shook her head and leaned against the door. She was in pain, but she didn’t want her family to know—especially Arya. She couldn’t let Arya blame herself for something that wasn’t her fault. She’d keep her pain to herself for a thousand years before she let it spread to her sister.

_This is your place, Sansa. This is your place._

* * *

 

She wasn’t asleep yet when the knock came at her door. She sighed and looked at her clock—12:27. She groaned and sprung from her bed to answer her door. She ripped it open, expecting Rickon to be on the other side wanting to ask her a question for another survey. Gendry stood there instead. She was startled to say the least and lifted her eyes from his chest to his eyes.

“Erm,” she stammered, “What’re you doing?” He ignored her question and instead walked into her room and sat on her bed. She sighed and hung her head before shutting her door and sitting with him.

“Talk to me,” he said. She raised her eyebrows at him.

“What? What the hell are you talking about,” she snapped.

“You feel guilty about what happened to Sansa. I know you, Arya, and I know that no matter how many times she insists that it’s not your fault you’ll still blame yourself.” She looked away and shook her head.

“I hate that,” she muttered.

“Hate what?” She turned back to look at him with a conflicted look on her face.

“How well you know me,” she whispered. “I hate that you know when I’m happy, when I’m mad. I hate that you can look at me and know how I’m feeling or what I’m thinking.” She looked away and shook her head. “I do feel guilty. And you’re right. I’m never going to forgive myself because no matter what Sansa says, this is my fault. And don’t you dare tell me it’s not. I don’t need that kind of bullshit coming from you.” They sat in silence for a moment.

“Do you want to hear a story,” he asked. She looked at him and nodded. He reached behind his back and pulled his shirt off in one fluid motion.

“What the hell,” she blurted, but she stopped when she saw a scar on his chest that ran from just underneath his right collar bone down to the center of his left pectoral muscle. Not fully aware of her own movements, she reached out and traced the scar with her fingertips. He inhaled sharply at the cold, gentle touch of her small hands and she looked up at him with a question in her eyes.

“Courtesy of one Joffrey Baratheon,” Gendry said. She raised her eyebrows in shock. “I beat him in a fight once, back in the first summer of Fight Club. He attacked me a couple weeks later, but he doesn’t do this to everyone that beats him. He only attacks the people that he has other problems with. I’ve never gotten along with the little fuck and when I beat him in the fight,” he shook his head as he remembered it and a small smile appeared on his lips, “he cried like a baby. It was great.” He laughed and his laughter made her smile. “However, he came at me with a knife a few weeks later and said some shit that was supposed to scare me about ‘you’re a bastard and that’s all you’ll ever be; you need to learn your place’. It’s partially my fault and Robb’s and Jon’s for starting this stupid club, but I don’t blame myself.” He looked down at her. “Robb and Jon don’t blame themselves. We blame Joffrey, because in the end it was a stupid decision that he made that just happened to involve hurting me. It wasn’t just because I embarrassed him at Fight Club, it was for so many other times I’d humiliated him or stood up to him as well.”

“Thank you,” she smiled at him.

“For what,” he asked with a laugh.

“For telling me that,” she looked away with a grin on her face. Hearing similar stories form Gendry and Sansa somehow eased her mind. Maybe it wasn’t her fault after all. Maybe all the blame was on Joffrey’s shoulders.

Gendry moved closer to her and tucked a strand of her short hair behind her ear. She glared at him, but her glare softened when she saw the way he was looking at her. He leaned in towards her and kissed her gently. He pulled away and looked away from him. “Why did you do that,” she asked breathless. He smiled and quickly kissed her again before standing and opening her bedroom door.

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Arya.” He smiled and left her room. She smiled and collapsed onto her bed.

Sleep came easy after that.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! I was reluctant to post it because, well, now it's over. I am still working on the sequel and hopefully will start posting chapters soon! Thank you all so much!

This was what Arya loved most. Her entire family was down at King’s Landing helping Sansa, Daenerys, and herself move into their new living quarters for the coming semester. Amongst them was Daenerys boyfriend, Drogo. Arya was pleasantly surprised to realize how mellow and gentle he was.

“Rickon, be careful with that box,” Sansa yelled. She was getting better, but the process was slow. Ned Stark wrapped an arm around his eldest daughter and kissed her forehead gently before walking into the house carrying the box for Arya’s bedframe with Robb. Arya smiled.

“Arya,” Jon called. She looked up to see him poking his head out of the window in her bedroom. He motioned for her to come and join him and she ran inside and bounded up the steps. When she reached the top floor, Jon was waiting for her in the hallway. He looked around before reaching up and tugging on a string attached to the door that lead to their attic. The ladder unfolded for them and he climbed up with Arya at his heels. They sat down on the wood floor and Arya looked out the small circular window that looked down upon the front walk.

“I have something for you,” Jon said. It was only now that Arya noticed the box in his hands. He handed it to her and she broke out into a smile. She lifted the top of the box and peeled back the tissue paper to reveal a helmet. She gasped as she lifted it out of the box. The top of the helmet was detailed like the face of a wolf. “I know that for Skeleton some people get really cool helmets that have designs on them so that when they’re going down the course you see like a brain or a face or, now in your case, a wolf.” He smiled at his sister as she turned the helmet in her hands before setting it down in the box and tackling him in a hug.

“I love it,” she exclaimed. She pulled back to look at him and smiled once again.

“Come on,” Jon laughed, “we better get back down there before your mother has a conniption.” They climbed down the ladder and Arya ran to her room to put her helmet on her dresser. She stopped in the doorway when she saw Gendry standing there. He was covered in sweat and had a box in his hands. He heard her when she entered and turned to look at her.

“I didn’t know where to put this…,” his voice trailed off as they stared at each other.

“Just set it down anywhere,” she muttered. This summer had been strange for them. It was full of longing looks and almost kisses and, as of last night, first kisses. It made Arya nervous to have him standing so close in nothing but a t-shirt and some ratty old jeans. He dropped the box and noticed the helmet in her hands.

“That’s nice,” he said. The smile on his face was meek and he looked just as nervous as she felt.

“What? Oh yeah, Jon got it for me. For Skeleton,” she smiled and set the helmet down on her dresser. She turned around and her breath caught to see that he was so close. He was a mere inch away from her and his forehead gently bumped against her. “Gendry,” she sighed.

“Shh,” he whispered. His lips were against her forehead and her breathing was erratic. He nudged her head to the side gently and lowered his mouth to hers. Their lips touched minutely and they stood there breathing each other’s air. He lowered his head and closed the space between them to kiss her. It was gentle at first, like the kisses they’d shared last night, and he kept his hands to himself. He was afraid of how much he wanted her—afraid of reaching out and hurting her. But when she wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair he pulled her to his chest. He lifted her slightly off of her feet and broke their kiss as they both caught their breath.

“What took you so long?” Her voice was breathy when she asked it and they laughed together as he set her down.

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that your older brothers are my best mates and I was afraid they’d kill me,” he joked.

“Please, they knew before you did,” Arya teased.

“Actually, we knew before both of you.” Gendry and Arya turned to see Jon and Robb standing in her doorway with the stupidest grins on their faces. They started laughing as Gendry crossed the room and slammed the door in their faces. He turned back to Arya and kissed her fervently.

The world felt right again.


End file.
